Raindrops and Roses, and whiskers of kittens… of them I guess raindrops are my favourite. There is certain freshness about a shower that cleanses the leaves, and cleanses my soul as well. And as much as I love the raindrops, so does my parched plants in my garden.
Rains in Delhi are a rarity, for a monsoon-fed country like India. It is supposed to rain in Delhi since end June, buy this time we had the driest July in last four or five years, only to have the wettest August in last twelve years. Yes, it had caused water logging at so many areas of the city, causing rush hour traffic to move at a snail’s pace, and makes the traffic signals at important intersections of the city go kaput at the peak hour traffic periods at alarming regularity; but at my home in south-west part of the city, rains are a bliss to me and my garden look forward to every year.
There’s something about the water droplets hanging from the leaves, the grass feeling wet beneath my bare feet, and the flutter of bees and butterflies when I walk on my patch of green, which sends my heart soaring, my soul wanting more. Is it because there’s a time out for this beauty, or is it the very fact that lurks behind my thoughts, that tomorrow I may not be here to watch this bounty of nature in my very own front yard?
I feel greedy to absorb this wild natural beauty in my pores of my being, to carry the essence of the greens with me, and brush away all thoughts of tomorrow as I look at my oasis in this city.
I have a small range of potted plants on my terrace, a Hibiscus plant I had rescued from my neighbour’s abandonment; a few different varieties of palm trees, including a couple of Areca Palms; an Arrow Head plant; a couple of cacti, as these are extremely easy to care for; a few from the Dracena variety, I read somewhere that these are plants for beginners in the gardening hobby; and a lovely row of Canna plants lining one side of the lawn, which sleep through the winter, and sprout into many flowers with the monsoon showers.